I Will Fix You
by Misty78
Summary: Written for a friend 33


Jayne stared, his eyes heavy with tiredness from the long week of figuring out the most recent case thrown his way. Not that he was whinning, because the look of relief and bliss on the face of the mother when her lost child of three days was returned to her replaced all the back breaking stress the detective went through finding the little girl.  
>But all that was far from his mind, his gaze locked on the sleeping form on the bare matress next to him. His sides rising and falling from his soft breathing, his body curled up like a sleeping kittens. His pale face buried against his little knuckles. His eyes twitched in slumber. Jayne guessed he was dreaming about something silly. He was pretty sure he was gonna hear about it the next morning anyway.<br>The sight put a warm feeling in the center of the cop's chest, and he couldn't help but smile. He drank in this rare side the punk exposed, only when he wasn't even aware he was doing it. The long since changed boy that was still in him some where decided to come out during these late nights, when the only light flooding through was the city street lamps, putting a comorting, gentle glow in the way-too-small room.  
>Jayne found peace in staying up late to read those shitty detective stories Hanna dragged him to the libary to get every other day... but, instead of reading, he found himself setting the book down on his lap to stare at the redheaded punk he adored with everything he was. He observed the funny way Hanna's limp mohawk strung itself over the dirty pillow, and the way his skinny body twitched every once and a while. He looked so soft and child like, the peircings and scars didn't even seem to matter, Jayne was far too busy scanning his eyes up and down that angel like face, and if he looked hard enough... he swore he could spot a couple freckles here and there.<br>He could spend hours watching the ginger dream, his own heavy eyelids were forgotton after some time. He had to fight the urge to reach over and trace a single finger down his scarred front. The urge became too much after about five minutes, and he watched his hand drift over and gently brush down the zigzag mark.  
>It made the detective sick to his stomach just looking at it.<br>He found himself wishing with every fiber of his being that it was him instead of Hanna. That he was the one who took the blows. That he could just be there when the redheads world came crashing down around him. So he could step in and carry all that pain for him. He wouldn't mind bearing those emotional wounds the punk tried so hard to cover up.  
>He tried to cover them up, to shove them deep down and act like everything was okay. But when he locked eyes with the detective, he could see as clear as day the hurt reflected in those baby blues. He could just see all the things that took place in the young mans life. All the things that tore him apart and left him an empty shell of a boy.<br>No matter how hard Hanna tried, Jayne could still see everything he struggled to leave behind him.  
>His past was something that just wouldn't leave him, even when he meant for it to mean nothing. That look in his eyes gave it all away.<br>Hanna's past made him who he was today. And even now he was troubled. He tossed and turned during some nights, whimpring and twitching. Jayne could almost feel the sorrow coming off the redhead in waves.  
>He felt all the things Hanna refused to show. And he didn't even mind.<br>He was happy it was him, he wished more then anything he could just take all the pain and the misery from the punk's life and throw it away... he felt as if it were his duty. His job.  
>He wanted to heal him. Even when Hanna refused his efforts, he knew he just couldn't give up. He wanted to make that pained look in his eyes go away for good. To replace it with a look that was true, a smile that was real, and not faked. He wanted to make everything alright again.<br>He knew it was silly to think, and made him look like more of a love sick fool then he already did... but the longing to take care of the punk was too much to ignore.  
>He didn't care what Hanna said, or how much he pulled away, Jayne swore that no matter what the hell happened in the end, he would pull through and hold that damned redhead as close as possible until the nightmares stopped and the sun cracked through to chase away the darkness that was eating him from the inside out.<p>Now, with his hand resting on his bare shoulder, Jayne smiled. A deep, true smile.<p>

"Mm... morning, Jay."

"Goodmorning, Hanna. Want some eggs?"

In the end, he was all Jayne really had.


End file.
